I am an early riser. Always have been. I generally wake around 4am. I love this time of day before first light: to utilize my dreams, consciously breathe life into my body, push aside multiple lingering pains, collect my thoughts, and permit inspiration to physically move me into creative action.

Waking for me involves a negotiation: to sit, then stand, then move, as I consciously step out and away from the chronic pain that would hold me down if I permitted such. “You can leave my body now,” I’d silently say to my unwelcomed, yet tolerated, guest, with an exhale

The ‘flowers’ I get to enjoy under moonlight or starlight are many – most of which are internal. The discoveries I get to enjoy, fresh from a sleeping state into a quiet world of no distractions other than my own, allow for my continued peaceful transitioning. And then, there are the ‘flowers’ outside of me, when discovered, confirm me as witness to the wakening world – in leaf, or branch, or sound of moving water or calling bird – to the rhythm and the drum of my heart beating.

In wintertime, the flowers of Hawaii beacon me: Bird of Paradise, hibiscus, lily and plumeria, and 'flowers' of a different kind; uninterrupted rest and intimate conversations, books-to-be-read, beaches-to-be-walked, ocean swims, deliciously slow dining, poetic inspiration, and full days of making love.

For several years Dagma and I have enjoyed our annual vacation to the Mauna Kea Resort on the Big Island of Hawaii; an opportunity afforded us following a tomato harvest in the fields of Hollister, California when, after a day of hard work and back pain, we left our chiropractor with her sage advice to take some rest, "I have a cousin who works at The Mauna Kea. You deserve the restorative power of this experience." And so, we did – and did again.

During our visits, we get the same room on an upper floor overlooking the western coastline with a 180-degree view of ocean. And then, I fall, almost hypnotically, into a series of pleasant rituals; one of which is to wake around 4-am alongside Dagma, slip out of the still-darkened room so as not to awaken her, and walk down shadowed stairs to my favorite lounge chair, above the beach...to a nest of flowers in night-bloom.

The rest that I leave Dagma within as I leave her bed each morning is vital to her recovery and sustenance – necessary to shake off her daily schedule of multi-tasking. "If Dagma is okay everything is okay," I continually remind myself.

Years ago, I came to realize that only by being in dedicated service to her health and well-being can I be assured of attracting the ongoing adventures that sustain the liveliness of our relationship – as friends, lovers and 24/7 partners in our business. As she stands taller, more confidently in the freedom of her own power, she's better able to ride the winds of adversity that may come our way.

I am reminded that rest, exercise, truth in conversation, a healthy diet of food, creative stimulation, sex and laughter is essential...here in Hawaii...and at home.

Midday, fresh from boogie-boarding in the surf for two hours, Dagma stands at the foot of my chair as a shadow on the page of the book I'm reading and says, "Gary, I'm going to take another ukulele class, and after that a class in lei-making, and after that, I'll be ready for a margarita by the water, and after that...how 'bout making love before dinner?"

"Hmmm. It all sounds like fun." I reply as she steps away from being shadow for me and I'm forced to cover my eyes from the brilliance. "Come get me when you finish your classes. I'm almost finished with this book and I'll be ready for whatever pleases you. What, no hula lessons today?"

"No. Tomorrow."

I begin to hear Hawaiian music behind my thoughts.

My toes snuggle into warm beach sand and the only task before me is turning of another page and to refresh her smile.